


Don't Be So Stubborn!

by Emme2589



Series: Very Gay "Randall Lives" AU [3]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, Vomiting, hersh gets a stern talking-to, randall is concerned, sort of Hershel/Randall but it's not the focus this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 03:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18460643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emme2589/pseuds/Emme2589
Summary: Hershel sometimes stays up too late at night or forgets to eat in favor of work, but when he was younger, he was far more extreme about it.





	Don't Be So Stubborn!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, these are no longer in chronological order. This takes place like a year before _What We Lost In Akbadain,_ when Hershel and Randall were 16.

Hershel didn't feel great that morning.

He'd spent the entire previous day finishing his homework, only getting up occasionally to go to the bathroom and stretch his legs. By the time his mom finally convinced him to come downstairs to eat dinner, he realized just how hungry he was. He ate much more than he normally would simply because he hadn't eaten all day.

_“You're a growing boy, Hershel!”_ Lucille had scolded him, _“You can't skip meals like this!”_

After he finished, he went straight to bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Hershel’s hand went up to his stomach, which roiled with undigested food. He considered staying home from school that day, but he had already missed plenty of other days also due to sickness, and he feared what would happen to his record if he skipped too many days. He carefully sat up, swaying when a headache pounded on the back of his temples. He couldn't bend forward without his knee digging into his abdomen, so he had to be extra cautious when dressing, especially when tying his shoes.

“Good morning, Ma.” Hershel yawned, taking an apple from the fruit bowl.

“Oh dear!” Lucille left the stove to place the back of her hand to Hershel's forehead, “You look awful! Maybe you shouldn't go to school today.”

“No, Ma. I'm fine.” he tried to convince himself as well as his mother, “I can't miss too many days, you know.”

“Yes, but you still shouldn't go to school sick!”

Hershel felt his stomach leap just looking at the apple in his hand, so he stashed it in his school bag, “I'll just go long enough for class, then I'll come home and lay down.”

“Well...” Lucille watched him go, “Alright. If you're certain.”

“I am.” he gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, “Bye, Ma.”

The sun made his headache worse. He tried to run, but that also made him feel worse, so he settled for a brisk walk. He slid into his desk in the classroom a couple minutes before it began, trying to ignore the way his eyelids drooped from his exhaustion.

“Hey.” Randall sat in the desk in front of him, as he usually did, “I missed you in fencing.”

Hershel didn't miss the way Randall flinched when he lifted his head, “Yeah. I overslept.”

“Yikes. Are you okay?” Randall pushed Hershel's bangs back, “Are you sick?”

“No, no...I'm not sick.” Hershel tried to smile to prove it as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Class was starting soon, so Randall turned in his desk, “Okay. Just...remember that the trash can is below the back window.”

What? Yes, he knew that. Of course he knew that. How could he have been here as a student for a year and a half without knowing where the...

Hershel swallowed instinctively. The longer he sat there, the more he wanted to just lie down and sleep. The teacher got to the front of the classroom, and his voice barely registered in Hershel's head. In fact...he began to find the droning voice to be intensely irritating.

Every tiny sound reverberated through Hershel's skull. Someone dropped their pencil on the floor and had to lean over to pick it up. Another person coughed into their sleeve. The lead of Randall's pencil scratched furiously into his notebook. Hershel could hardly see through his exhaustion, and yet he was painfully aware of every sound. He was overwhelmed. He was in pain. He swallowed again.

Just then, without any warning, a burning sensation started to snake its way up his throat. It felt at first like severe heartburn, but it just kept going up. His stomach constricted. He gasped softly.

He tried to swallow it down, but it wasn't working. It just kept trying to stubbornly escape like it was drowning under the pressure of staying down. Hershel bit down on his bottom lip, but it only added to the pain.

He didn't notice that Randall kept looking back at him, and that he wasn't taking notes anymore. He didn't notice when the teacher’s voice stopped.

The burning jumped all the way up to Hershel's mouth, and he knew he couldn't ignore it anymore. He clamped his mouth shut with one hand while he bolted from his chair towards the trash can. He leaned over it, finally releasing the food and acid that had been so desperate to escape. He gagged and sputtered, crying and shaking from the pain of throwing up, like tiny shards of glass were tearing him apart from the inside out. He was cold enough to make his teeth chatter once he'd finished, each shutter that wracked his body making him gag a few more times. His throat was finally clear, and he took a deep breath of air, his heart pounding in his ears.

He had completely forgotten where he was until Randall leapt to his feet, “Mr. Collins, can I take Hershel to the infirmary!?”

***

Hershel thought that maybe he should have been embarrassed, but he could hardly even keep himself upright. He had to completely lean on Randall to get himself down the stairs. The school nurse gave him an aspirin before sending him home, and Randall went back to class until school was over.

Hershel didn't get any sleep at home, but after a few hours, he ate a couple spoonfuls of applesauce his mom had made him. His nausea had mostly faded by then, but he was too tired to get out of bed, so he asked her to get a book off his shelf. He was now lying on his back, the book set aside on his nightstand.

“Hey.”

Hershel opened one eye. Randall was tapping his foot in the doorway, his eyebrows knit together in an angry frown.

“You said you weren't sick.”

Hershel stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly and sleepily, “How did you get in?”

“Don't change the subject, Hershel!” Randall pointed an accusing finger at him as he briskly walked into the room to sit on the bed, “Also your mom let me in.”

Hershel wiped his palms on the quilt over his chest.

“You lied to me, Hershel. You lied to your mom.” Randall's stern expression turned more compassionate, “Why?”

Hershel furrowed his eyebrows, “I didn't lie. I was just...mistaken, I suppose.”

“Yeah. You were.” Randall rolled his eyes, “You knew you weren't feeling great, in any case. Why did you force yourself to go to class anyway?”

“Well, I’ve already lost a lot of days to being sick, I can't stay home for all of them.”

“And did you ever stop to think about _WHY_ you keep getting so sick!?”

Hershel and Randall made eye contact. Randall huffed in frustration.

“You realize that too much stress can make you sick, don't you? You don't even have a regular sleeping schedule! Don't think I haven't noticed the way you nod off in class!”

Hershel swallowed again, too nervous to meet his friend's eye.

“Why do you do it, Hershel?” Randall continued, “It's not like you need to do everything perfect and on time. Most of our homework is optional anyway.”

Hershel really didn't know why he did it. He had a vague idea that maybe he just really felt like he had to prove himself, but he wasn't sure where that feeling came from. He kept thinking about it, trying to pin down why he seemed to be so addicted to overworking himself. Part of him wanted to chalk it up to perfectionism, and while that did seem to be part of the reason, he didn't feel it was the full story either.

“I...” Hershel sat up, setting his pillow upright so he could lean back, “I think I do it because I feel better when I'm working. Holding perfectly still doesn't feel right to me, and if I can use my energy to do something productive, then that's just a bonus.”

“Well _that_ doesn't sound right.”

Randall's response was immediate. Hershel gazed at him in confusion, “What do you mean it doesn't sound right?”

Randall shrugged towards him, “Don't you get tired? You need to sleep and eat, too. And besides, doing the exact same thing over and over? Doesn't that get boring?”

Hershel crossed his arms, his head hitting the wall behind him when he leaned into the pillow.

“Well...no. I don't consider it boring. I think it's quite relaxing to go through the same monotonous action over and over again. I don't really know why, it's...just how I feel.”

Randall seemed to consider this, going quiet as he thought, “And about getting hungry?”

Hershel shook his head, “I don't know. I have a water bottle on my desk, and when I'm focused on something, the hours just...escape me.”

“Heh.” Randall rubbed his neck, “I wish I could do that. My dad would love it if I could stay focused.”

“Have you seen me lately, Randall? I wish I knew when to stop.”

“You do.” Randall set both hands on either side of Hershel's torso, making the latter flinch back in surprise, “Your mom's got one of those twisty kitchen timers, right?”

“Uhh...” Hershel was dizzy when Randall got too close to his face, “Yes...?”

“Then ask if you can borrow it while you work. If you really get so focused that you forget to even check the time, then use the timer to get yourself back to the real world.”

Hershel considered the idea. He wouldn't need to use it forever. Once he built the habit of getting up every so often, that should make it easier to stop in the future when he needed a break.

“That...doesn't seem like a bad idea...”

He didn't sound too convinced.

“Hey, Hersh.” Randall sat up straight, his eyes darting to the bookshelf, “I don't like seeing you so sick. You're going to destroy yourself if you keep this up.”

Hershel sank further into his pillow.

“At least _try_ to fix this. Can you do that?”

Randall's eyes sparkled despite his obvious concern. Hershel was sure it would be easier to just keep overworking himself, but Randall was right. He was only human after all, and if he kept ignoring his basic needs, then it wasn’t going to end well.

Hershel’s eyes fluttered closed, “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” Randall sank into the mattress before getting up and leaving the room, “I’m going home. I’ll see you...whenever you’re better.”

“Okay.” Hershel prepared to go back to sleep, “Oh, Randall?”

“Yeah?”

Hershel smiled as his hair fluffed around his head, “Thank you, for setting me straight.”

Randall matched his smile, “No problem. Now get some rest.”

***


End file.
